As if called from afar, waves cold colors of night
suddenly appear to be streaked with warm breath, shapes
emerge from shadow's sleep, performers step toward the
footlights speaking the first words of the link

her face, glowing from inside out, was seen through a
car's window and the windshield wiper cleaned tears away from
it to both sides

of his family originated in the mountains so it was to
the up-lifted country he took his later years to be held
aloft by slanted land to look down on the tops of trees and
to go gently only where two feet are given passage. Yet it
was here they must drive to carry him down to a grave.

over-flowered, a rectangle turns into a sweet-smelling
island. Children stop here picking crocus for Easter. Half
open chalice, in the air between petals, still his
name

fluttered nearby on the wings of Muir Hairstreak at home
in the Sargent cypress of the Range of Lights, his better
name for the Sierra Nevada, resting place among the granite
rocks for even a late moon

places its light horizontally; the only vertical are
the pine trees and the person in between; his channeling into
a thread of continuously floating light wraps them
together

but because it started to rain, the magical experience
was interrupted; he left the woods and jumping over trenches
by taking a short cut back to the village, he passed the home
of a friend, knocked on the door and joined a homecoming
party when all guests together started to work on one
watercolor

not being artists -- with no ability to draw or paint,
there was nothing for us to do but to stand outdoors with
hands upturned to the designs of the Zodiac

The party of 36 individuals decides each would write one
sentence containing the visible space between stars; the
final intricate mosaic would testify if the many voices
poetiencially enlarge the poetical statement of a single
person

orange tea and cherry jam at two in the morning by
candlelight and rain music unscrambling dream speakers'
messages coded in vegetable scraps rotting in the kitchen
compost pot next to the jelly jar

a mouse! a gray ball passing the floor as fast as an
unwanted memory can appear and leaving under the stairway
like the uplighted word on a computer screen when your finger
touched the "mouse"

revelation -- and the mind is flung into the midst of a
previous life in Italy, lying ill and alone on a soiled bed,
seeing the door open, and as sunlight streams low across the
bare earth floor

The first word of each three-liner is determined by the
sixth stanza Wallace Steven's "Thirteen Ways of Looking
at a Blackbird."

Iciclestouching the swollen gumwhere the
tooth was pulled

on Sundays more emptiedSafeway's frozen
good aisle

filledheaven high with the
chillmackerel skies

foreign winds blow rounderbubbles into her
blouse

the curve of her breastsignaling desire he
touchesher wine goblet

more red from such a warmthtulips wouldn't close
for sleep

long partedsea fogs for a morningcrossing
ships

the cause for rows of wavesthe hollow clang of bell
buoys

window programshortly after midnighta spotted
owl lights up

chain saw in moth ballsthe logger learns
word-crunching

with a face lifthis wife wonders whyhe too has
whiskers

happy to hear the bird songreturn of a bearded
tit

barbaricif one could but wouldn't stopdog
before a tree

third day of the dietwanting chocolate so bad

glass tubeslamps are forced to shinecloser to
a patient

deep in our dark bodiesthe radiance of white bone

the health care
problemHillaryhilarious

a child dumps sea waterin a sand castle's moat

shadow formsas day passes steep cliffsfaces of
ancestors

in my mask an octopuskelp green arm's slow
motion

of Shivathe patina brings centuriesto a bronze
sculpture

pressed brown leaves a markerin the fading book a
glow

the clock strikeswrong!summer time begins

in the heart of grass I watchApril flowers growing
colors

blackbirdthe circle of his eyewidens the
stars

too far, too earlyflight within my dream

crossedhairs in the glassof the sniper's gun

trembling and the sudden falla man along his
pass

it zigzagslife is never again the samein the
lightning's flash

strawberry cream letterson a birthday cake

to a surferleaving a wave's tunnelshark
faced

the great jaws green whitesea energy travels wide

and between treesswingingmaiden hair

prancing ponies catch the sunwhirl around the
carousel

from foggedthe ice restlessunder the bridge

the sun comes bringing springwrapped in all that
follows.

Death HaikuJane Reichhold

Poems collected out of my works on the theme. Why I did
this, I have forgotten. But the poems were the result of my
going back to Ohio to take care of my parents - John and Erma
Styer in their last illness and death.

OHIOROADS SO STRAIGHTHEAVEN GOES DOWN THEM

OVERNIGHTRENTING A CANOE AND A MOON

IN ROWSBEES AND HIS LIPS AT HARMONICA HOLES

LAST SIPBITTER TASTE OF EARTHIN THE WATER

OPEN GRAVEFROST AIR PENETRATESDEEP INTO EARTH

BURIAL GROUNDNAKED TREESVEIL THE SUNRISE

WINDTANGLING BAREBLACK TREES

OHIOSKIES TOO WIDEFOR ONE WEATHER

WINTER ROADA SHARP TURNTO THE NURSING HOME

EATING OUTCLINGING TO MY SKIRTBLANKET FUZZ

KNITTING TO OHIOTHESE TREES

ABOVETHE DIALYSIS MACHINEA WITHERED PLANT

KNITTINGDURING THE DEATH WATCHA DROPPED STITCH

LAST KISSHER REASON TO BESO COLD

SOBSTHE OXYGEN TANKHISSES

WINDSHIELD WIPERNOT BRUSHING AWAYTHE TEARS

FREEZING RAINANOTHER BREAKDOWNIN THE DIALYSIS MACHINE

SICKROOM FEELINGTHE FAKE FORMICAFLOORING

DEATH WATCHONE THREAD UNRAVELS

NO MORE BREATHFALLING FROM THE VASEA PINK ROSE PETAL

FORGETTING WHERETHE FAMILY STONESINKS IN

TOMBSTONESOMETHING FOR OTHERSTO LOOK AT

WIND BROKENTHE BENT BRANCHFALLS TO THE ROOTS

LEAVING THE CEMETERYSUNRISEON FROST-CRACKED SOIL

WINTER SUNTHE HOUR'S ANGLEFROSTED

FALLING FROM THE WREATHFROSTFLOWERS

FOR DADSELLING HIS HOUSESETTING A STONE

FLIGHT DELAYEDAIRPORT CAROLS"ANGELS WE HAVE HEARD ON HIGH.."

RUN WAYA NAIL BITTEN DOWNTO THE QUICK

TO LEAVE OHIOBUCKLING UPTHE SEAT BELT

A PILE OF CARDSTHE INNER GLOW OF LIGHTSIN A CRYSTAL

ABOVE FLYING SEASA SWARM OF BLACK BIRDSIN SPINDRIFT

RAIN DROPSA CATHEDRAL ROOFON THE CABIN

BLOOD RELATIVESFOR THANKSGIVING DINNERRED BEETS

CHRISTMASA SLEIGH DRAWS HOMEWARDALL MY THOUGHTS

WINTER SOLSTICEFINDING A NEW POINT FOR ACCUPRESSURE

AFTER THE SOLSTICECLEANING THE HOUSETRIMMING WICKS

A NEW YEARRISING FROM WILD SEASA FEW STARS

Someone was writing an anthology of haiku on the subject of old women. I sent her this list. She couldn't find one she wanted to put in her book, so I am not going to tell you the name of it. Just like an Old Woman.